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He writes to me about all the plans he’s making and how hard he’s working. The problem is I’m working hard too but all my plans aren’t about him. It’s a funny position because for the first time there’s nothing wrong with him. The chemistry is good and the compatibility is high, this is it, never better.

But ready, maybe not. Part of me can throw it in, pool resources, live together. But what about throwing in freedom, does it go into the circle of sharing? Freedom to. To come home late, go off on random unplanned adventure; to throw a moment into the F*ck It You Only Live Once category, no holds barred.

I have a default, secret commitment phobic friend, who’s always on the radar when it goes sideways. Communication is sporadic but honest; there’s this strange feeling during our conversations like what’s being said has never been said before, like we’ve been saving it up to be spoken in darkness, as co-conspirator witnesses. When we’re safely apart we half-joke about someday being committed, maybe to each other, and then we go try with everyone else. The one conversation in the darkness that’s never risked.

Lately he’s there a little too easily, just scratchable at the surface. He’s a figment of the fear, not even a true what-if, just a diversion for all the ways I don’t want to feel about what’s here and real.